"I'll lead," Crowley says. Not that it's always the best to follow Crowley. Into danger, into dancing, into basically anything involving using brain cells at all. All the same, he's wiling to lead here. At least give it an attempt.

He slips out of the booth, keeping his hand in Aziraphale's, giving it a gentle tug.

"You'll do great. It's a great song," he pleads.